


Possible (21/39?)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [21]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:03:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian hang out</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (21/39?)

They went to Tommy's together in the early afternoon, when Mickey had finished his rounds. Mickey bought chili, dogs and soup and they walked over to the vacant lot to eat. Ian slid in a few smartass comments about Mickey's work and made a show of pulling himself up on a tree branch a couple of times but Mickey wasn't about to let it bother him.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a tough guy. Now c'mere and eat this chili while it's hot."

Ian dropped down from the tree, sauntered over and took the container. "I still got it."

"Yeah, sure ya do." Mickey didn't disagree, but sometimes he wished Ian wanted to do something with it. He took a bite of hot dog and looked at Ian curiously. "You gonna start training again?"

"I dunno." The question made Ian grow more subdued. He sat down on the curb beside Mickey and looked down at his food. "Not much point now."

Mickey knew what he meant, and searched for a way to change the subject. "What about goin' back to work? You thought about that?"

Ian shook his head. "Not at the club. It's probably not a good environment for me right now."

No topic seemed safe. Mickey was about to say something about the afternoon's baseball game when Ian added, "But yeah, I'm gonna find some kind of job soon. Don't worry, I don't expect you to carry me forever."

"Nah, that's not what I meant," Mickey said quickly, and it wasn't; he hadn't even thought about Ian supporting himself. "It's no big deal."

"You just said you're hardly pulling anything in from the rub and tug."

"Don't worry about that. I got other -- other plans."

Now Ian was looking at him curiously, so Mickey rushed on. "Gotta admit I won't miss those wrinkled queens watchin' you shake your ass at the club every night though."

"Whatcha got against wrinkled queens anyway?" Ian asked, and they both laughed. "They're not all old, ya know," Ian went on after a minute. "There's some hot looking guys at some of those bars."

"Not the ones I saw at your fucking establishment."

Ian stopped spooning chili into his mouth for a moment and gave Mickey an odd look. "You know, you're out now, Mickey."

Mickey shrugged. "People know we like bangin', I guess."

"Gay, Mickey. You're gay."

"Whatever, man. Don't mean I gotta go shake my dick with all those queeny faggots."

"There's plenty of different ways to be gay."

"Yeah, well, I'm good with mine and yours."

For a while Ian was quiet, and Mickey began picking up their empty cartons and utensils. "Ready to head over to the stadium?" he said, standing up.

But Ian stayed where he was. "You ever think maybe you liked me mainly because I -- because I knew about you?" he asked.

"The fuck you talkin' about, Gallagher?" 

Ian leaned back on his arms, looking up at Mickey like he'd never seen him before. "You never really got to choose, did you? You were always just looking for someone you could get off with on the downlow. I was the only one who stuck around."

"Jesus Christ, Ian, what're you talking about? Course I got to choose." Even as he said it, though, Mickey couldn't help thinking of the men he slipped out behind the alley with. He didn't look for much in them except a certain kind of passing masculinity and a willingness to do it with him. "Now c'mon." He led the way to the street. "Let's get up to the game before it's over."

Ian jumped up and began to jog ahead a little. He didn't look particularly upset. "Now that you're out, you oughta take advantage of it, Mickey."

"What're you talkin' about, asshole? And slow down! I ain't runnin' the whole way."

"I mean go to a club, hang out with other gay men, let them buy you drinks. You're young and hot, you'll get plenty of attention."

"Why would I fuckin' do that? I don't want those geriatrics buying me -- "

"So find a different crowd. Bet you'd like the Jackhammer."

"Are you serious? Why you tryin' to get me to one of those places?"

"Because." Ian jogged back to Mickey and grabbed his arm suddenly. "Because I want you to be happy."

"Who says I'm not happy?"

"You spend all day looking after me and managing whores. How much fun is that?"

Mickey had a sudden thought and stopped in his tracks. "Are you tryin' to get rid of me, Gallagher?"

But Ian laughed out loud at that. "Course not. I just ... " He grew serious, looking intently into Mickey's face. "You do take care of me. I appreciate it. And I know you miss fooling around. Wish I could do it with you but the meds are really screwing up my biology. If I can't do it for you, I want you to get it somewhere else."

Mickey remembered those fleeting encounters behind the Alibi again as they resumed their walk. "Don't worry about that. I told you, I'm not waiting for you."

"Who're you doing it with though? Guys in bathrooms and back alleys? Do you even get to see their faces?"

Mickey was starting to hate the whole conversation. "If you want to be with me, why are you ... "

"I wanted to be with you when you were in juvie," Ian said. "But I couldn't. So I found other guys. Doesn't mean I didn't want to be with you."

"Never thought you wouldn't." They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, Ian occasionally shooting little glances at Mickey. "But that was a long time ago," Mickey added, after a while. "Things are different now."

"Because we're living together?"

Mickey had never thought about it like that, but he guessed they were. "Okay. Yeah."

"Look ... it was fun for me, going to bars, letting men hit on me. It made me feel -- wanted. I just want you to know what it's like."

"I told ya -- I don't want old men droolin' on me."

"So go some place where you like the guys. Hang out with other guys like us, where you can be yourself. You've never had that experience. I want you to see what it's like."

"I got no interest in -- "

"I don't want you to be with me because you never had any other choice, Mickey."

_Jesus_. Mickey stared at Ian. "Fuck you, man. You think I didn't choose you?"

"Not saying that." Ian switched tactics abruptly. "Come on, Mickey. I know how much you like banging. Go out one time, have fun, find someone you like. I want you to."

Mickey shook his head, not answering. They were nearing the stadium now, falling in with other stragglers heading to the game. The voice of the announcer, tinny and excited, floated over the air toward them. 

"I hear the Jackhammer has a great leather show on Monday nights," Ian said.

"Ain't goin' there myself."

"So I'll go with you."

"Really?" Mickey stopped in his tracks. "You will?"

"Sure. If I'm up for it."

Mickey raised an eyebrow and shrugged, considering the idea that Ian might want to go out some time. "Well, in that case ... "

"Game's starting. C'mon!" Ian grabbed Mickey's arm and started sprinting toward the west gate, where it was easiest to get lost in the crowds. After that it was all Mickey could do to keep up with him.


End file.
